The Ones We Love
by UniqueByDesign
Summary: How far will Garrus go to save the woman he loves, even if it means saving her from herself? ME-3 and beyond Rating subject to change
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Disclaimed: Sadly, Mass Effect does not belong to little ol' me.

* * *

Garrus set up his sniper rifle on top of a building across from his target. The sound of moving traffic below him did nothing to disturb his forced calm. Illium was thriving, alive beneath his feet, and he felt as though he could feel every tremor, his heart matching every beat.

He tried to keep all of his focus on the task at hand, taking extra care to place his bag filled with equipment down gently. He zipped open the bag, methodically taking out parts of his sniper rifle.

He couldn't think about what he was about to do. If he did, it suddenly made everything real—realer than he was able to handle.

His set up his stand quickly and quietly, snapping his gun into place in quick motions. His visor was giving him readouts about the weather; there was a strong breeze.

Not strong enough to stray his shot.

Chatter of the city below filtered up, filling the air with noise. Seconds passed into minutes, and with the passing of time, his calm façade too began to wither away.

_Focus Vakarian,_ He chided himself harshly. _It's just any other kill._

His hands twitched, body obviously recognizing the lie. It didn't matter, it didn't change anything. This was his target, his last target.

He was _not_ going to fail now.

His knee didn't protest as he kneeled behind his gun, as he leaned up comfortably to look through his scope. His breath escaped him in a painful gust.

She looked exactly the same as before.

Fire red hair fell to kiss her shoulders in haphazard layers with one piece tucked behind her ear. She wasn't wearing make-up, something he was happy about. He never understood why human females loved putting that crap on their faces. It never did anything for him, not then, not now.

From what he could see her body remained unchanged; she was wearing a pair of civvies as she walked around her apartment. He could tell she hadn't been there long; it was unfurnished save the futon on the floor in the corner. There were some boxes stacked up around the room, its contents still inside.

He made his visor zoom in, so that he could see her face. It wasn't as sharp or clear as it would be if he'd been standing next to her, but it sufficed.

Garrus was once again surprised at how expressive human faces were, and though she'd loved to argue that she was different, he knew the truth. Though her face wasn't necessarily as expressive as the others in her race, all of her emotions were present in her eyes; a beautiful emerald green.

He could see them now; and they looked so much brighter than the last time he'd stared into them.

His talons gripped his gun tighter, trigger finger twitching. He watched, heart thudding painfully against his ribs as she walked over to the window overlooking the city. She was in plain sight.

_Take the shot._

His finger moved onto the trigger of the gun. He exhaled in a shaking gust, pushing back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

His breath began sawing in and out of his lungs, and he could do nothing to stop it. All he could do was wait for his control to return to him.

_Get a grip Vakarian._

It wasn't enough; he needed more. He needed a _reason,_ he needed justification.

His mandibles trembled as he watched her purse her lips in thought.

_She looks exactly the same, acts exactly the same. Maybe they're wrong, maybe—_

He stopped that train of thought in its tracks. He refused to go there.

_Just do it Vakarain. Your last hit, three months of chasing has led up to this. _

He watched her sigh as she typed something on her PADD.

_Make it quick._ His gut clenched, his muscles relaxed. His trigger finger stopped twitching.

_Set her free._

He pulled the trigger, just in time to see her smile.

* * *

**A/N:** Don't worry, I'm not gonna leave it here. (I'm not_ that_ cruel...) Thanks for reading and feel free 2 write a review! They make me oh so happy~


	2. Chapter 2

"As soon as you start thinking about the beginning, it's the end."—Junot Diaz

* * *

He remembered when the war ended. Every race across the galaxy rejoiced. Sure, they had their casualties, they had their scars, but they had their futures.

A future she nearly died trying to give them.

He remembered seeing her after her imprisonment on Earth, six months since she blew up that relay trying to stall the Reapers. While she'd been locked away, they descended on them like the plague, hitting Earth then Palaven.

The way she walked, talked, acted was different. Her face was harder, and paler from sleepless nights. Her gait had changed, she didn't just move like a woman on a mission but a woman racing against time. Her whole persona had altered since the Reapers had arrived.

He didn't blame her, who would? If he had the weight of the galaxy on your shoulders, he'd be different too.

He'd tried to look past the physical, tried to read between the lines. He wanted to make sure that she was still there; that beneath the cybernetic upgrades and the pale skin and tired eyes she was still Jane—his commander, his best friend.

He had to know if she was still the same woman he'd have followed into hell.

He was hopeful at first; she'd maintained her visits to the Battery just to talk to him, albeit a lot less frequently. But as time passed, the stakes rose and everyone began to demand more and more from her. That's when he noticed the cracks.

They were small at first. She had a shit temper, her patience had gone to hell and her tolerance for bullshit was at an all-time low. But he could understand that, if he had to deal with half she shit she did he'd have lost his fucking mind.

But a part of him never stopped believing that she was larger than life; he always thought that somehow she'd come out okay, because that's what she always did.

She was Commander Fucking Shepard. She didn't break, she didn't bend, and she didn't fail.

But he was wrong.

He didn't notice it until the topic of the genophage came up. She had to fix it, solve a centuries old problem that had nothing to do with her because no one could get their shit straight.

It was same old same old. They went in, shit hit the fan, and Shepard went with Mordin to make sure the genophage cure would be okay. Only Shepard came back.

He didn't ask too much about it, she'd given him the bare bones of what had happened later that week. But he could tell something was missing, something she neglected to say.

She didn't tell him the truth until Wrex had attacked her on the Citadel; until he watched their shouting fest; until he watched her put a barrage of bullets in her friend.

She'd stood over Wrex's body for a while, not speaking, not moving. Her gun was clenched tightly in her hand.

Garrus took a step forward to say something, anything, but before he could she turned on her heel and walked back to the docking bay. She didn't look at him or Tali. She didn't look at anything.

She'd met him in the battery not long after that and told him about Mordin, about sabotaging the genophage. She spared no details.

He told her what she needed to hear—that he could have done the same thing, that it was just the ruthless calculus of war, but his gut burned at his lies.

She didn't say anything, just nodded, staring off at nothing. It was then he noticed that her eyes—eyes that usually shined like emeralds—were dull and opaque, almost glassy.

"Jane—"

"That's all Garrus." She said, cutting him off. She was out of the battery and nearing the elevator seconds later, leaving him to watch her retreating back.

She didn't come back down to the Battery after that.

She avoided everybody until the next mission came up. She talked to the crew less and less, read all her messages in her cabin, didn't come down to the Mess Hall, all forms of social contact was cut to a bare minimum.

He started to worry, everyone did. Tali had come down to the Battery more often, voicing her grievances, thinking of something—anything—they could do to help her.

"I feel like she's drifting away from us Garrus, like we're losing her all over again."

_That's because we are._ "It's the war, Tali. She…" He paused. "It's wearing on all of us and she's no exception. She's not immortal, she has limits." _Limits that she's dangerously close to exceeding._

"You should talk to her Garrus. She always used to open up to you."

_Used to._ He sighed. "I…I'll try Tali. I'll try."

The next day he sent a private message to Shepard, short and to the point.

Shepard, I'm not going to try to pretend like I understand everything you're going through, because I don't.

But I'd like to understand, if you'd let me.

I'm always down in the Battery if you want to talk about anything, or nothing at all.

I'm here if you need me.

Garrus.

She didn't take him up on his offer until after the coup d'états with Udina. It'd been one hell of a day, Thane was gone, Udina lost his mind, and Shepard killed Kaidan.

All in all, the day had been shit.

He'd caught Shepard putting up Kaidan's name along with the other fallen crewmembers. His name fell below Thane's.

She was thinner, her skin sallow and grey, with dark purple crescents blooming under her eyes. Her hair was even more erratic than before, the layered red bob seemed to protrude at odd angles. Her hands shook as they smoothed the name plate down on the memorial wall.

She stood up, by his side. They both stared at the wall, each lost in their own thoughts. Garrus was busy trying to find something to say to her, something that would make her feel better, anything to bring the light back to her eyes.

"I don't regret it." Her voice was like her eyes; hollow.

"Shepard—"

"He wouldn't stand down."

"It's—"

"He didn't give me any choice, Cerberus was coming and Udina was gonna get us all killed and I had to stop him. I had to—He…he wouldn't fucking _listen_ to me, and I…I did what I had to."

"No one's blaming you Shepard—"

"That's what I always do—what I have to. Did I want to shoot him? No, God he was my _friend._ So was Mordin and Wrex and I shot them too. I had to. _I had to._ That doesn't make it right though does it? No-no it just makes it what it is; unavoidable."

Garrus' heart was breaking little by little as she spoke; words pouring out of her mouth like vomit. He reached out to her, grabbed her shoulders, leaned in trying to make it stop, trying to make her stop—

"I would've done it all again, over and over and over again. None of them trusted me. None of them, or they would've stopped and did what I asked, Garrus."

"Shepard please—"

"I need everyone's trust, I need everyone doing what I say, when I say it. No questions, no arguments, _just fucking do it._ Because how else can I trust you watching my six if I can't trust you to follow orders? I can't, and I won't take that chance. I _can't,_ I—"

"_Jane_," He said, shaking her harder. Her eyes flew up to his, and he swore he could see the red cybernetics hiding behind her green irises, making her eyes darker in some spots more than others. Her mouth was slightly open, breathing labored, forehead shining with sweat. Her arms began to shake; her torso quaked with the force of her breathing.

"No one calls me that anymore." She whispered. "I don't think anyone remembers I have a first name anymore." Her breath fanned out over his face, and it was only then that he realized just how close they were, their foreheads nearly touching.

"I want to call you Jane." He whispered, voice rough, throat tight. "I want to be there for you, watch your six, shoulder some of the bullshit everyone keeps dumping on you, I—"

He was silenced when her hands snaked up around his neck, resting slightly on his armor-covered cowl. His arms instinctively dropped to her waist, and he was surprised by how _right _this felt.

Her eyes were tracing over his features, and he could feel the heat of her gaze as it raked over his plates. "Is that a promise, Garrus?"

His voice was barely above a whisper. "Yes."

She opened her mouth, and Spirits knew he'd have killed to know what she was about to say. But he'd never know.

Before she could speak the sound of the elevator doors opening was like thunder, shattering the moment with startling suddenness. Between the spaces of two heartbeats she was out of his arms. She shook her head absently, looked him in the eyes and gave him a pathetic imitation of a smile.

"No." She whispered, letting her gaze drop to the floor. _"No."_

"Jane—"

She disappeared down the hall by the time Tali came, walking up to stand beside him. He was sure she was speaking to him; asking him something, but he only shook his head and walked back to the elevator to return to the Battery.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, so if anyone is confused about what just happened, here's some clarification.

This entire chapter is basically a series of flashbacks, from the moment Shepard landed on Palaven and onward, spanning (quickly) over the ME-3 timeline. (Sorry if I didn't make that clear enough).

Thanks a lot for reading, please review; if you liked it, or hated it I'd like to know!

Oh, and the quote is from a book by Jason Diaz called This is How You Lose Her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Blah blah disclaimer blah**

* * *

The bullet was still cutting through the air when he resurfaced from the torrent of flashbacks that seized him. He was aware of nothing but the thunderous beating of his heart against his ribs, and the bullet that was about to kill the woman he loved.

He needed a reason to kill her. He needed a _reason._ He was searching anxiously, grasping at threads of memories, trying to make sense of it all. His mind obliged him, bringing him under once again, and Garrus allowed it. He could feel the memories wash over him and into him, until he was living them once more.

* * *

Shepard avoided him like hell after that, didn't bring him on any more missions, didn't visit the battery; nothing. He remembered standing in front of one of the many gun consoles, talons typing furiously as his anger continued to rise.

_Another mission I'm left out of._ He thought angrily. _Replaced by fucking Vega._

He didn't hate the marine, he just hated that he'd been completely and unquestionably replaced, and he couldn't do shit about it. All he could do was sit on his ass and wait for Shepard to notice him again.

Meantime, Tali and occasionally Liara stopped by repeatedly to talk to him. Most of their conversations ran the same course. First, they'd talk about mundane things, the food in the Mess or his addiction to calibrations. Then they'd wander around the Battery, searching for words; trying to find a way to say what they needed to say.

Then finally they'd just spit it out; ask about Shepard, how they're worried about her, how he should be worried. He'd cut them off, saying,

"She's replaced me. Nothing I can do about it."

They wouldn't believe him. "You should talk to her Garrus, maybe she'll—"

And he'd cut them off again. "If you haven't noticed, Shepard doesn't _do_ talking. She just acts, and expects everyone to follow along whether they got the fucking memo or not. That's the way she is."

That'd shut them up for a minute, before they would fire back, "So you're just going to lie there and take it—"

"Did you come here for something?" He'd snap, "Because if you did, then get to the goddamn point. I've got shit to do."

Tali would sigh, mutter something under her breath and stalk out of the Battery. Liara would clench her fists, blue biotic energy pulsing, before shaking her head.

"Forget it." She said, before she too left.

He didn't know how to feel once they were gone. Anger was always the quickest to show its face, but always the fastest to leave. It was that burning sensation, the frustration in knowing that they spoke the truth that lasted the longest.

But he had a quick remedy for that. He'd just walk on over to his stash of liquor, pop the top, and take a long drag of it until it filled his stomach. He'd drink until his body felt warm all over and his hands shook gently. He'd drink until this thoughts turned to mud and bled into each other uselessly. He'd drink until he forgot about the anger and the pain and the _hurt._ Then, he'd walk over to the main console, hit the lock, and slide down onto the floor, staring at nothing, seeing nothing.

* * *

It wasn't until Shepard came back from Thessia, limping and bleeding, that he'd finally grown a quad. While Shepard was being dragged to Chawkas, and Liara had run off to who-the-fuck-knows-where, Garrus cornered Vega in the elevator.

"What happened?"

The bulky marine looked up at him, saw he wasn't in the mood for bullshit, and told him. Everything.

Garrus leaned up against the wall of the elevator and sighed, shutting his eyes tight. _Damn war._

"And Shepard? How'd she fare?"

Vega shrugged, staring at his boots sheepishly. "Kai Leng did a number on her. Neither the doc or I saw him in time…" He let his sentence trail off into silence, looking anywhere except at Garrus.

Good, because the facial expression he was making would've scared most marines. Without looking at him, Vega asked, "Feel up to a little sparring?" His voice cut into the silence.

Garrus didn't respond, but hit the floor number that took them to the training decks. The marine smiled.

* * *

Ten minutes. That's how long it took for shit to get real.

Garrus hadn't planned on taking it easy; by no means, but he wasn't planning on doing serious damage to the kid.

_He is your replacement, after all._

So Garrus played it safe, dodged mostly, attacked only when he felt he had to. It was turning into more of a cardio exercise than anything else.

But it didn't take long for Vega to realize that Garrus was pulling his punches. A muscle ticked in his jaw before he decided to open up his big fat mouth and start goading him.

Garrus threw another half-assed punch.

"Oh come on Scars, that all you got?"

More movement, more dodging.

"_You're_ the top hand-to hand specialist on this ship?" Vega asked, throwing a punch of his own; one Garrus easily deflected.

"The one and only."

Vega laughed, blocking a throw Garrus had aimed to his ribs. "You kiddin' right?"

Garrus could feel something stir in his chest. He ignored it; dodging another punch aimed at his face.

"Nope."

Vega launched a fist toward Garrus' head, one Garrus easily dodged. "I dunno, must be your age or somethin' Scars, but you don't seem too tough to me."

There it was again, that same feeling gripping his chest. Barely biting back a growl, Garrus landed a quick punch to the Marine's side. It was a glancing blow, one Vega easily shrugged off.

"That it?"

Vega swung again, a quick jabbing combo. Garrus deflected his hits, a growl escaping his mouth.

"What's with this dodging shit? Fuckin' hit me!"

Another punch, another glancing blow. This one more deliberate, more painful.

The feeling in Garrus' chest tightened, making it harder to breathe, to think, to pull his punches.

"Shut it Vega—"

"What, afraid to think I might be catching up to you? S'okay to admit it Scars, there's nothin' wrong with the truth."

Garrus got closer to Vega, invading his space, and dropped a few short, sharp jabs along his ribcage.  
He was panting now, not from exertion, but from the tightness in his chest. His vision swam, the edges of his field of view turning a deep blue.

Vega managed to knee Garrus in the thigh, twist, and grab him by the Cowl. The marine struggled, trying to get him in a choke hold. One of his heels dug into the space between his spur and the back of his leg, causing the Turian's growl to turn fully dual-toned in barely surpassed rage.

Vega laughed by Garrus' ear. "I think it's time for you to pass that title on down, Abuelo." Garrus dodged another would be elbow jab, spun, and punched Vega in his shoulder, uncaring of the way Vega's face twisted in pain.

Vega stumbled, tried to regain momentum with a windmill kick. Garrus caught him by the ankle and twisted, heard a crack.

He saw the Marine's face twitch in pain, and couldn't stop his mandibles from widening in a smile.

Garrus braced his other hand along James' calf so that he could use Vega's momentum to flip him; sending the marine spiraling to the floor.

Garrus pressed his knee into James' back.

"You think you can replace me, Vega?"

"Fuck—" Vega gasped, struggling to breathe. "Garrus—"

"You're a kid. You're a good marine, a good soldier, but you're a child." He presses down harder. "Can you watch her six?"

"Gar—"

"Can you? Answer me soldier."

Vega, unable to speak, nods jerkily, face growing red as his oxygen supply is cut off.

"If you're taking my place you better fucking believe it. She doesn't die. Got that Vega? _She doesn't die._ I'd rather you take a bullet through the brain than have her limping in like some abused varren." With every word Garrus increased pressure on Vega's back, growling as the marine clawed at the plush mat beneath him, trying to escape.

"She's got the weight of the whole motherfucking galaxy on her little shoulders. You better make sure nothing happens to her. I don't care what you have to do, who you have to kill. Just do it."

Garrus stands up, yawning at the human's gasps. The way he lies there choking back air is practically disgusting. Garrus doesn't spare him a glance as he heads toward the elevator.

"I don't want—I'm not trying to-replace you." Vega forced out, voice raw and rough.

Garrus shook his head and punched in the ship level to the Battery. "You don't have a choice."

* * *

He barely managed to make it back to the Battery without snapping any necks. Barely. Everyone seemed to want to talk to him, have a goddamn conversation, bitch about the weather. He didn't have time for it, any of it. He had a bottle of Ryncol in the Battery with his name on it.

As soon as the doors opened, he made a beeline for it; didn't even bother looking for a glass. He just popped the top and took a long hard drink. The liquid burned his throat and pooled in his stomach, mixing with the ration bars he'd eaten hours ago.

He walked over to a corner and sat, tipping the bottle back again. He tried not to dwell on what happened with Vega. He'd nearly lost control, hell he _had_ lost control, even if it was just for a few seconds. It was enough to knock some sense into him. He needed to stay the hell away from Vega, until—

_Until Shepard takes you back? Not fucking happening, Vakarian. She's made her choice._

He took another sip.

He could deal with it, hell, he's been dealing with it. He just needed to stay away from Vega and Shepard until further notice. He needed to stop asking about the missions, needed to stop being so damn obsessed about her health, her wellbeing. He needed to stop all of it.

He took a long drag of the liquor, sighing happily when he felt his awareness dampen and his emotions dim. He kept drinking. It wasn't enough, not yet.

Not yet.

He could feel himself slip away, bit by bit he felt his thoughts bleed together, fantasy mixing with reality, contaminating each other until he didn't know what was up, what was down.

He drifted in his intoxicated bliss for Spirits knew how long.

His blood rushed through his ears like the woosh of a door opening, fast and loud and strong. He felt the bottle slip from his hands but didn't hear it shatter, or see the glass splinter as it hit the floor.

He was aware that he was speaking, to himself, to whomever. Words tore from his chest and crawled out his throat in harsh low rumbles.

"_Off a fucking cliff_." His heartbeat thundered in his ears like the sound of footsteps. "I would've followed you off a fucking cliff. I would've kicked Kai Leng's ass, chopped his head off with his motherfucking sword…would've let you watch… hell, we could've done it together." A noise ripped from his liquor-filled stomach, burning his throat on the way out. If he was more coherent, he'd have thought it was a whine.

Or a cry.

Or whatever.

"We could've…_together_…"

He heard the crack of glass being ground into the floor. He saw a blur of colors, his mind registered that someone was in front of him, wearing civvies?

"What the hell's happening to you Vakarian?"

Her voice was like a bucket of cold water poured on his head, sending shivers down his spine. _Jane._

He opened his mouth, worked his mandibles, tried to speak, but to no avail. His mouth was useless.

_Just like you._

"Come on, Vakarian." She sighed, he could feel her warm breath fan out over his face. "One of us needs to keep it together."

He gurgled in reply.

Another sigh. "Am I gonna have to take you to Chawkas? You downed a whole bottle of Ryncol, like a dumbass."

_Speak, damnit, speak. _

"Mmh…" _Words Vakarain, use your words._ "Doin' fine."

"Bullshit."

_No, you're bullshit._ "Nothin'…can't handle."

"You sure about that?"

_Are you?_

He must've spoken aloud, because he saw her stiffen. It was a while before she croaked out, "I've been meaning to…" She fidgeted, looking about nervously. "Talk."

His head was starting to clear a bit; things were taking on more concrete shapes instead of being all fuzzy.

He managed a jerky nod. "Talk."

More fidgeting. "I'll come back later, when you're sober and I'm—"

_Tired of running? Will that be before or after this war is over?_

Bye the look on her face he knew he'd spoken his thoughts again. Oh well, he was tired of censoring himself.

Her face set into a stubborn mask, and she sat down across from him, leaning against a stack of gun crates.

"Fine." She said, rubbing a hand through her already disheveled hair. "But if you fall asleep Vakarian, I swear I'll falcon punch you in the jugular."

He groaned as he sat up, and managed a sloppy smile. "Noted."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please drop off a review on your way out~**


	4. Chapter 4

The hum of the ship filled the resulting silence, while Garrus and Shepard both tried to get their shit together before either of them started talking.

Garrus tested his ability to form words silently, keeping his eyes trained on the woman in front of him, while Shepard kept her gaze locked on the shards of glass that littered the floor.

"Since when do you drink Ryncol?"

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. _Since I got replaced._ "I've been drinking it for a while."

She didn't respond to that, and he watched as one of her hands clenched around the fabric at her thigh.

More silence.

He risked a look at her face, happy to realize she wasn't looking at him. It gave him free reign to openly stare, to examine.

She looked like she usually did, tired as hell. There same purple bruises remained beneath her eyes in swooping crescent shapes. She'd lost weight, making her soft face seem sharper, tougher. Her hair was still a mess, but she'd made the effort to tie it back with a band. Garrus peered quietly at the little tail of red hair knotted at the back of her head.

"You're staring."

He met her eyes. Still dull. He nodded, not trusting his voice or himself enough to lie to her.

She pursed her lips, and after a moment of quiet deliberation, spoke. "You do this often?"

"Stare at you?"

The corner of her mouth tugged up in a smirk. "No, drink Ryncol until you're utterly shitfaced."

Garrus shook his head, and with a slight struggle, managed to get onto his knees. He didn't care that the shards of glass were cutting into his skin. He got to his feet, albeit a bit unsteadily, and walked over to where he hid his stash of liquor. It was behind a gun console in need of repair. He slid out a smaller bottle of Turian liquor, not bothering to look for a glass.

"Only when I need to." He says, rejoining her on the floor beside her, closer than he was before. He popped the top and held his breath, hoping she didn't scoot away from him.

She didn't, and instead took the bottle from him to take a nice long sip.

Garrus watched as her throat moved, pulling the liquor down into her stomach. He was riveted when she pulled the bottle away from her lips with a barely audible pop.

"S'good." She said, nodding at the bottle appreciatively. "Authentic?"

He nodded. "Bought a bottle from the market last time we were at the Citadel."

"How much?"

"Too much." Garrus said, coughing up a chuckle. He threw her a look. "So I hope you're savoring it."

Her lips split wide in a natural smile, and Garrus marveled at how it seemed to transform her features. She looked younger, more vibrant.

Happier.

His gut clenched, making his throat burn in barely repressed nausea. How long had it been since he'd seen her smile?

He couldn't remember.

"Every last drop." She said, bringing the bottle back to her lips. His mandibles shifted in a Turian smirk, and his eyes focused on the gun consol in front of them. He was looking past it, past the ship and the people in it, past the wires and scraps of metal and technology. His mind was running wildly, gears twisting and turning a million ways each second. His eyes were focused on the stars surrounding them hoping, begging, for them to give him more moments like this.

"Garrus?"

His eyes snapped to hers, and he liked what he saw, around the corners of her irises was that telltale emerald green.

_Baby steps._

"Hmm?" He looked at was she was offering, the liquor bottle gently pointed in his direction. He took it from her, loving the way her skin felt as his talons skimmed her fingers.

He took a small sip, he didn't want to risk getting sucked back into that drunken haze again. She was here, with him, and he was going to remember this moment.

He pulled the bottle away from his lips when she whispered, soft as a breeze, "I missed this."

_You have no idea._ "Me too Jane."

She coughed into her fist, and took the bottle back from him. He let her. She took a long sip, eyes slipping closed for a moment. He took that chance to tug a wayward strand of red hair back to where it belonged, trapped in her hair tie. When he pulled his hand back, her eyes were on him, and it took all he had not to look away.

They moved closer to each other, gaze still locked on one another, speaking without words.

"Garrus, I'm—"

He shook his head. _You don't need to apologize Jane._

This time she shook her head. _I've been treating you like utter shit, like I don't care and I-_ Her throat worked as she swallowed._ I do Garrus._ Her lips mashed into a line, eyes burning with what neither of them were willing to call tears. _I was being selfish._

He stroked a talon down her cheek._ It's okay Jane._

Her hands gripped his arms. _No, no I fucked up. I knew I was hurting you, I knew what I was doing to you but I couldn't stop and now you're—_

His three-taloned hand gripped her shoulder. He had both hands on her now, one stroking the side of her face while the other gripped her shoulder, bringing her closer to him. His eyes bored into hers.

_I'm fine._ He urged. _I'm… I'm fine._

Her lips twisted in a grimace. _Bullshit._

He stopped stoking her face, and moved his talons so that they were trapped in her russet locks. She leaned into his touch.

_I'll be fine. _

Her eyebrows pinched together, calm façade finally dissolving as her eyes seemed to burn with pain, with grief. She hid her face in the crook of his neck and cowl, back shaking.

"I'm not fine." She mumbled into his neck. "I'm _not—_"

"I know."

She gripped him, tight.

He responded in kind, pulling her to him so that she was in his lap. He crushed her to his chest shamelessly, but she didn't mind. She clutched him closer.

"Jane." He sighed, a harsh, rough gust of air. "Just… I'm here for you Jane. Whenever you want me, whenever you need me. I'll…" The words ripped from his chest, rubbing his throat raw as they left his mouth. He was laying himself bare; letting her see parts of himself he'd shown no one. He had to show her just how far he'd go to help her, to be there for her. Whatever she needed. He would go to any lengths for the woman he loved.

He fought to keep his feelings about her out of his eyes, though it nearly killed him. So when she leaned back to search them, she couldn't see how deep his feelings ran for her. Deeper than friendship, deeper than loyalty. He loved her more than anyone, needed her more than anything.

But she could never know.

She was looking at him like he was one of her guns she was trying to pick apart, trying to read between the lines. He swallowed thickly and fought to push the feelings back. This wasn't about him, wasn't about what he wanted or how he felt.

It was about her, and how he'd be damned if he became another burden for her to carry, another weakness.

"Garrus…"

If he told her, that's all he'd ever be, another glaring chink in her armor.

He'd face an army of Krogan for her. He'd storm into hell, into the unknown. For her. Whatever she needed.

"Whatever you need."

She burrowed closer to him once more, and he counted the number of breaths she took before they evened out in sleep.

He didn't know how long they stayed like that, but Garrus didn't sleep. Instead, he memorized her like this, unguarded and content and beautiful in sleep. All the worry lines and other wrinkles evened out with her breathing, and with a little hope, the bruises beneath her eyes would begin to fade.

This was as close to peace they were going to get, Garrus knew that, and he wasn't about to lose this moment sleeping. He was going to burn this into his mind, because when shit hit the fan, he'd need a happy memory, something pure and good and right to hold onto. He'd need this.

He gently bowed his head and nuzzled her hair, mirroring a human kiss. He took a deep breath, and exhaled shakily.

Half of him wanted to pray to the spirits, to fall on his knees and beg them for mercy.

But he knew better.

Because there's no mercy in war.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to update, I had a bit of trouble figuring out how to pick up after the previous chapter, and midterms did nothing to curb THE BLOCK. **

**But thanks for reading! Feel free to drop a review on your way out.**


	5. Chapter 5

_Sadly, none of the characters belong to me... unless BioWare or EA wants to give me Garrus? I'd appreciate it._

* * *

_How long before the bullet hits her?_ Garrus wondered, eyes still glued to it as it continued to sail through the air. Every nanosecond felt like an hour, every moment seemed to drag on and on. But he wasn't complaining. It was almost the end, it was almost over. The last few drops of Ryncol at the bottom of the bottle, the last gasps of air before your body gave out. Sweet, dizzying, tantalizing.

He needed to make it last.

Until the last possible second.

He was aware that the world had turned silent around him. All of his senses honed, focusing on the bullet. Every fiber in his body was taught, watching it make its way through the air, closer and closer towards her.

But the memories sprung up, creeping silently across his vision like thick quivering black ropes, pulling him back again.

* * *

Garrus woke up alone.

He wasn't surprised, not really. He knew Shepard, knew she didn't do awkward situations, and he couldn't promise that after their little drunken breakthrough last night that things wouldn't be awkward.

It was better this way. He forced his body off of the floor, mindful of the mess. He walked over to one of the main consoles, prepared to start his calibrations, when EDI's voice filtered into the room.

"Garrus, Commander Shepard wanted me to tell you that you are on rotation for today's mission."

His talons froze above the console.

"Garrus?"

Air stuttered out of his lungs in a rough cough. "I'm here…uh, what's the mission—"

"To find and relay any Cerberus Intel. Completion of the Crucible is top priority, this Intel can facilitate its construction."

Garrus nodded sharply once. "Got it EDI. How long do I have—"

"Approximately one hour and ten minutes until deployment."

More nodding. Garrus ran a trembling hand over his face once, twice. "Got it."

He could tell when EDI cut the connection, and was grateful for the privacy. Air passed through his mouth in rapid breaths, his heart beat a bit harder, a bit faster, in anticipation.

He turned on his heel, marching out of the Battery with a renewed sense of purpose and a shit-eating grin.

* * *

The thud of his heart was the only thing he could hear, the only thing he focused on. He raised his assault rifle, aimed at the nearest Cerberus spawn, and pulled the trigger.

A spray of blood.

A change in position.

Another shot.

A similar spray.

Over and over and over again.

Shepard was slightly up ahead, charging into the fray as per usual. Her biotics shone around her like a full-body halo. Gun cradled in her hands at the ready, she jumped over another barricade and greeted her enemies with a barrage of bullets.

A stray operative was jogging around her flank, her blind side. He raised his gun, took a breath and pulled the trigger. He went down like a stone and with no less sound.

"Clear. Main terminal in sight."

Even though Tali was hooked up to the same comm link, Garrus would like to think that Shepard was talking to him alone.

"Gotcha. I'm on your six."

" Wouldn't expect you anywhere else."

They charged forward, Tali and Garrus flanking Shepard in a tight Delta shape. When they reached the terminal, Tali made quick work of it, cracking codes and firewalls while Garrus and Shepard held down their position.

It was like nothing changed, they were close enough that they could easily read each other's body signs and facial expressions. They moved in sync, dancing around each other, hearts beating to the same rhythm.

Shepard threw explosive crates at the advancing operatives like they were toys. Garrus landed a bullet in each one just before they hit the ground, grinning at the explosion that always caught the enemy by surprise.

Garrus could hear Shepard's laughter across the comms, rich and low and filled with the thrill of battle. He'd be lying if he said that it didn't make him feel a certain way.

"All done Shepard, permission to download information."

"Granted." Shepard's voice was louder, and he looked over to see her approaching his position. Getting out of his semi-crouch, he fought back the pleasant shivers at her advance. She threw him a grin that spoke volumes.

Her hair was unruly, red locks falling and curling haphazardly. The blood of Cerberus operatives darkened her metallic gray armor, some even splattered on her face. During the fight she tried to wipe it off with her cheeks, making it stain her face in scarlet streaks.

"Let's hope there's some stuff we can use." Shepard said, folding her arms over her chest. "We don't have time to waste on wild goose chases."

Confusion bloomed in his stomach. "Wild what?"

A grin broke out over her features, making her already slightly manic expression look even more crazed. Pupils slightly enlarge, emerald eyes seeming to glow, she looked every bit like a warrior in her element.

"Don't worry about it Garrus."

A laugh rumbled low in his chest. "Another human saying I've no hope in understanding?"

Her nod was unapologetic. "'Course."

"Great."

* * *

They fell into a type of routine after that. They'd go on a mission, usually to gather intel on the Crusible, do their thing, and drink Ryncol until they couldn't stand up. Garrus became more familiar with the floor of the Battery than he ever thought possible, but he wasn't making any complaints. He'd pass out in a drunken stupor with Shepard, and wake up alone. The day would begin again and they'd wash, rinse and repeat.

Again, no complaints.

And in the rare moments between missions, he'd sit on the floor of the Battery and clean his guns, trying to work out the tar-like buildup of stress in his body. Sometimes he'd even catch himself humming quietly to himself.

Sometimes, Shepard would be there with him, in the middle of a pool of PADDs, each varying in size. Her dog tags would dangle around her neck, and every so often he'd catch her chewing on them, deep in thought. Other days she'd be twirling the tags around her fingers, and ask him to tell her a story, and he'd indulge her without hesitation.

Those days would pass by too quickly for Garrus, because he knew what those days were for. They worked into the ebb and flow of war, of life.

One moment, shit's exploding all around you and you're up to your calves in someone else's blood and you smell like burnt skin and sweat and death and in the next, you're back on the ship, talking and screwing around. You're acting like that morning hadn't been hell and acting like you're not pissed off or tired and acting like you don't miss your home.

You're ignoring the fact that your body aches and you still smell like blood and you can still taste it in the back of your throat.

Because when those moments come, those quiet unhurried moments, you take advantage of them. Because you know they go too fast and in another day, another hour, you could be dragged back into hell.

With no shout, or warning at all.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Does this count as a cliffhanger? I don't even know...**

**Sorry for completely dropping off the face of the earth, I blame the whole college process. It's evil~**

**But thanks to all the people who viewed, commented and followed the story, I've got a plan in mind now that I plan to carry out in the next few weeks/months (now that I got my shit together). I hope to put out another chapter soon.**

**Thanks so much~ plz drop a review on your way out. They make me feel all happy inside 3**


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